Named After a Number
by livyroro
Summary: Divergent and Insurgent from Four's point of view.


One quick note – the first and last a/n – I know this is overdone. But I wanted to get into Four's character and I wondered what I could do with it. He always intrigued me, and I want to do this to get to know him a bit better and see if we can explore his mind further. Not in a creepy way.

*This will go through Divergent and Insurgent

* * *

_Named After a Number_

* * *

I wake to the blaring of my alarm for the first time in weeks – I almost always wake hours before it is set to go off, to get in a few hours at the gym before the crowd of fame-seeking Dauntless start their measly training regiments.

This worries me, because today is a big day for me. In a way. I'm practically counting down the days until I can leave, and this will be the last group of initiates I train – so only a few more weeks and I can hit the road.

I would go to the cafeteria, at least for a few minutes, like I normally do, but I'm not interested in hearing the blabber about the Choosing Ceremony and the guessing about initiates that usually occurs around this time. I don't want anything to do with it, actually, but it's my job.

I won't be attending the Choosing Ceremony either – I never attended many as a child, but I'm really not going because of my job – and it will be a pleasant time when over half of our faction is gone. I like being alone.

After taking a quick shower, I pull on some clothes good for fighting and make my way down to the training room. I pull open the doors, and inhale deeply. I've always loved the smell – blood, and sweat – and the feel of this room. It's powerful.

I go through my usual routine, pushing myself no further than I normally do. I punch and kick until my knuckles are scabbed over twice, and my feet throb in sync with my pounding heartbeat. I stride over to the targets, picking up knives first. I've never enjoyed knife throwing so much – it's all for show, no actual use to it – but something about it is calming to me. I get myself in rhythm, preparing to throw. _Inhale, exhale. Aim. Throw._

The knife hits the center. I knew it would.

_Inhale, exhale. Aim. Throw._

It hits the same mark.

Again and again I throw, until I reach back to find no more left on the table. All of my knives are clustered around the targets' hearts and heads, with only a few scattered on the wooden floor beneath. I pick up the strays, that smell faintly like sawdust after their time on the ground, and yank the others out of the targets. I arrange them on the table just like they were before, in perfectly even rows.

I check the time, and I realize that I have to get going. Breathing in the scent one last time, I compose myself quickly and head out the door, masking all of my emotions behind a wall.

I'm not scared of becoming factionless, no, that's not it. I guess I'm apprehensive of leaving. whenever I think back to two years ago, to this very date, I'm flooded with guilt. I chose because I needed to, not because I wanted to. I am a fraud, and nobody even knows it.

Putting a scowl on my face, puckering my eyebrows together so hard it almost hurts, I walk briskly towards the net. I squeeze my way through the crow that has already gathered around the edges of the platform, leaving a fair amount of room so that when I look back, I can't see a single one.

Lauren stands, back to me, with her hands clasped behind her. She's rocking back and forth on her heels, her body shaking ever so slightly. She's more excited for this than I am, but I am not normal.

I walk up to her, standing next to her stiffly. She smiles at me warmly, her eyebrows raising like she's about to speak, but I don't make any effort to respond. Before I can see her reaction, I hear yelling coming from the top of the roof; Max, I presume. That means they're here.

It's only a matter of seconds before the first one comes plummeting down. I must be more tired than I think; because I swear I saw gray. The net bounces up and down slightly, less than usual, with the landing of the first jumper.

My heart skips a beat when I see her. She actually _is_ wearing gray, which means that I'm not going as crazy as I thought. She has a gleeful expression on her face, and she's laughing in to her hands. She crawls forward, her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders as she grabs my outstretched hand. I don't even remember extending it.

She's lighter than I anticipated, and she almost goes flying on to the floor, but my reflexes kick in and I catch her at the last second, steadying her. Her eyes meet mine, and I'm at a loss for words. She's got gray-blue eyes that are brighter than any I've ever seen before, they look almost alien.

She says so quietly it's almost a whisper, "Thank you."

I hear a shuffling noise behind me, and it's quickly followed by Lauren speaking. "Can't believe it," she smiles condescendingly at the girl, "A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of."

"There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," I say quietly. I don't know why, but I have a strange urge to defend her. I realize I don't even know her name. "What's your name?" I turn towards her.

She starts to stutter, and then pauses in thought. I cringe inside, remembering when I first came. I'm grateful for Amar every day, in more ways than one, but especially for my nickname. If everyone knew who I actually was…

I can't hold back a smile when I say, "Think about it. You don't get to pick again."

Without a moment's hesitation, she says, "Tris." She's so certain of herself, for a Stiff.

Lauren repeats her name with a huge grin on her face, "Make the announcement, Four."

I glance over my shoulder at the invisible crowd, a silent cue to come forward, and shout, "First jumper – Tris!"

Right on time, the cheering erupts. The Stiff – Tris – turns around, clearly surprised. She watches the crowd scream and pump their fists, and I feel a longing to be _truly_ Dauntless, to be a part of that crowd, though I don't deserve it, I want to be one with them, cheering and going crazy and being wild. I don't think I ever will, because I wouldn't even be here now if I weren't a trainer.

Another initiate falls to the net, but I don't turn around; don't help him or her out. Instead, I take one step over to Tris, and rest my hand on her upper back gently. "Welcome to Dauntless."

After all the initiates come down, some more successfully than others, we lead them further in to the Pit. Lauren breaks off with the Dauntless-borns and leads them away, leaving me alone with the transfers – for now.

I put cross my arms and try my best to be menacing, though it's not much different from how I act every day, I'm taking it up a notch for training. "Most of the time, I work in the Control Room, but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor. My name is Four," I say loudly, making sure they all can hear me well. I do not like repeating myself, nor do I like talking to other factions – especially Candor.

Just my luck, a confident looking Candor girl speaks up without hesitation. "Four? Like the number?" My nickname is very useful, in hiding my identity, but the only problem is that other factions – transfers included – don't understand it. Yet.

"Yes. Is there a problem?" I say, trying to keep my cool.

"No," she says quietly, though she's not backing down. I have to put her in her place, now. I won't let her walk all over me for a month and a half. I give her a look, and continue on with my spiel.

"Good. We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It –"

I am abruptly cut off by the sound of her voice over mine. "The Pit?" she says through light laughter, "Clever name."

I feel my fists clenching, and I slowly walk over to her, leaning in close. "What's your name?" I ask, my voice quiet but strong.

"Christina," she says timidly, for the first time, backing down.

"Well, Christina," I say as quietly as I can, still making sure the others can see me. I don't want to do this for every one of them. "If I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction. The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?"

She nods weakly, and I turn on my heels, walking further in to the Pit. Everyone is silent, except for Christina and Tris. I can't make out what they're saying, but I have a feeling it's about me. I don't react, and I push the doors open, and reveal the Pit.

I hear more whispering coming from Christina's general vicinity, and I turn my head to watch her but instead find myself looking at Tris. Like the other initiates, she's looking around in complete awe, examining every inch of the large cavern with care. I let them look around for a few seconds, and then get moving again. "If you follow me, I'll show you the chasm." I walk quickly over to the chasm, and stop at the metal railing. Most of the initiates come right up to the railing beside me, or close to it, and lean over, inspecting the raging water and jagged rocks. A few of them stay back, obviously intimidated. Not a good sign.

"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" I shout, making sure they can understand me over the roaring river, "A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before, and it will happen again. You've been warned." It's hard for me to say that so casually, as I remember those that have been lost in just the two years that I've been here. I didn't know any of them personally, but it still hits everyone in the community hard. Though I'm not much of the community.

I allow the initiates to look at it some more, and though they are all talking and I should be paying attention to all of them, my ears find Tris's voice cutting through the others like a light through fog.

Christina says something I can't make out, and Tris responds, "Incredible is the word." She talks more than I did, when I first came, but she's already got a friend. I still don't have any, not true friends at least.

I walk towards the dining hall, and they all scurry after me. The Dauntless applaud and shout, cheering and calling to the new initiates. My usual table, when I sit, is full, so I walk over to the only completely empty table left. I'm sitting next to Tris, and Christina's on her other side, unfortunately. Some of the other initiates sit with us as well, though I do not know their names. Christina grabs a hamburger from the middle of the table greedily, diving in. Tris picks one up hesitantly, squeezing it in between her small hands. She holds it like it's a bomb that might explode.

I hit her arm gently with my elbow, "It's beef." I hand her the ketchup, "Put this on it."

Christina dives right in with the questioning. "You've never had a hamburger before?"

"No," she says, "Is that what it's called?"

I decide to respond without thinking about it. "Stiffs eat plain food." Shoot. I hope that didn't give anything away. I don't think it did; Tris is preoccupied with this new food and Christina's fascinated with her new discoveries.

"No wonder you left," she says, smiling widely.

"Yeah," Tris says, rolling her eyes, "It was just because of the food."

I can't keep the smile off my face, although her mention of leaving brings back other memories, not-so-pleasant ones I'd like to keep hidden, I remember my first time eating a hamburger, it was similar to this.

Suddenly the whole dining hall quiets down, and I turn to see nobody else but Eric striding towards me.

Christina, asking questions yet again, "Who is that?"

"His name is Eric. He's a Dauntless leader," I say, quietly, so nobody can hear us.

"Seriously? But he's so young."

"Age doesn't matter here," I say. I think maybe if I say it a million times I will think it's right, but I think it's one of our biggest flaws. Eric, being the biggest mistake ever.

Eric comes over just as we're done talking about him, sliding unceremoniously into the seat next to me. "Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" he asks, smirking. I can't stand him.

"This is Tris and Christina," I say, gesturing to both of the girls.

He smirks more, "Ooh, a Stiff. We'll see how long you last." I feel the usual urge to punch him, but it is much stronger. I don't want anyone saying anything bad about her, and I really don't know why.

He studies me for a second, and I feel my walls becoming stronger. I will not let anyone, especially him, see inside of me. "What have you been doing lately, Four?"

I do a half shrug. "Nothing really." I know what he's going to say, going to ask. He's so invasive. He's never liked me much, and I feel the same, but I don't have a habit of getting in to other people's private lives.

"Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don't show up. He requested that I find out what's going on with you." I don't believe that. I know for a fact that Eric probably meddled to find out about me, like he always does. And I didn't show up on purpose. But I think Max and Eric both know that already.

I watch him carefully, considering my response. Now would not be the time to blow up. "Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold."

He raises his eyebrows questioningly. "So he wants to give you a job." _Like you didn't already know._

"So it would seem," I say, fighting to keep my language civil.

"And you aren't interested," he says. He keeps pushing. He doesn't know when to stop. One day, he's going to go too far, and I'm going to go over the edge.

"I haven't been interested for two years," my voice wavers a little bit, and I inwardly curse myself for being so transparent.

"Well, let's hope he gets the point, then." He slaps me on the shoulder, harder than what is socially accepted, and gets up. I let out a breath, no longer under his prying eyes.

"Are you two…friends?" Tris says. She's very perceptive.

"We were in the same initiate class," I say, not sure why I'm giving her this information. I don't have to. "He transferred from Erudite." I think that might change her opinion about him for the worse, but how much lower could it get?

"Were you a transfer too?" She asks. _Damn. I gave too much away, already. It's only the first day._

"I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions," I say, glancing at Christina. My walls go back up. "Now I've got Stiffs, too?" I didn't really mean to snap at her. I shouldn't feel bad, but I do.

"It must be because you're so approachable," She says, looking me right in the eyes. "You know. Like a bed of nails." She's bold. She'll fit in here.

I hold her gaze, studying her eyes. She stares back at me, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. "Careful, Tris."

I hear Zeke shouting to me from across the hall, and I get up without looking back to join them.


End file.
